Tangled Strings

Chapter 6: Almost Something

Because no matter what, they were still a band.

And if music was the only thing keeping Chiquita grounded right now, they weren’t going to take that away from her.

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Later that evening, Chiquita found herself in an unexpected place.

The student council office.

She hadn’t planned to come here. In fact, she had actively avoided this place since her last interaction with Ahyeon.

But here she was.

Standing outside the door, fingers hesitating over the handle.

Inside, she could hear voices—Ahyeon’s included.

“…We’ll finalize the budget proposal tomorrow,” Ahyeon was saying, her voice steady, controlled. “Make sure the logistics are sorted before the next meeting.”

“Got it,” Pharita responded. “Do you need anything else?”

A pause. Then Ahyeon sighed. “No, that’s all. You can head out.”

Chiquita stepped back slightly as the door opened, and Pharita nearly bumped into her.

“Oh—Chiquita?” Pharita blinked, then glanced back at Ahyeon before looking at her again. “Did you need something?”

Chiquita gave a lopsided grin. “Nah, just passing by.”

Pharita didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gave a polite nod before walking past, leaving Chiquita alone in the hallway.

And then there was just Ahyeon.

Standing there.

Looking at her with unreadable eyes.

Chiquita’s grin faltered slightly.

For the first time, she wasn’t sure what to say.

Ahyeon exhaled, crossing her arms. “What do you want, Chiquita?”

And just like that, Chiquita found herself smirking again, leaning against the doorframe. “What, can’t I just say hi?”

Ahyeon gave her a flat look. “You don’t just say hi. You always want something.”

Chiquita chuckled. “Damn, you make me sound so predictable.”

Ahyeon didn’t respond.

Instead, her gaze flickered—just for a second—over Chiquita’s lips.

It was so fast that if Chiquita hadn’t been watching closely, she might’ve missed it.

Something in her chest tightened.

Ahyeon knew.

She knew about last night.

And even though her face remained unreadable, there was something there.

Something that almost looked like jealousy.

Chiquita felt a flicker of satisfaction.

“You heard, huh?” she mused, tilting her head.

Ahyeon’s jaw tensed. “Heard what?”

Chiquita took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them. “About the party. About me kissing someone.”

Ahyeon’s eyes darkened. “So what if I did?”

There it was. That edge in her voice.

Not indifference. Not dismissal.

Something else.

Chiquita’s smirk widened, but there was no humor in it. “Nothing. Just wondering if it bothers you.”

Ahyeon’s fingers curled slightly at her sides. “It doesn’t.”

Liar.

Chiquita could see it—the tightness in her posture, the way she was avoiding eye contact.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she had the upper hand.

She stepped even closer, lowering her voice. “You know,” she murmured, “for someone who doesn’t care, you sure look tense.”

Ahyeon’s breath hitched, barely noticeable.

Chiquita leaned in, just enough for their faces to be inches apart.

Almost something.

But never quite there.

She could feel the heat radiating off Ahyeon, could see the slight flicker of uncertainty in her usually composed expression.

And for the first time, Ahyeon didn’t push her away.

Didn’t snap at her.

Didn’t move.

They stayed like that—suspended in something neither of them were ready to name.

Until finally, Ahyeon spoke.

“…Go home, Chiquita.”

Her voice was softer than usual.

Chiquita stared at her for a long moment before stepping back.

She tilted her head, giving Ahyeon one last lingering look. “Sweet dreams, Vice President.”

And then she walked away.

Leaving behind a tension that neither of them knew how to unravel.